


Labels are Dumb (I Just Wanna Fall in Love and Go to Bed Without Ghost Above My Head)

by wellthisisprettyrisque (collettephinz)



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: AU, Discovery of Sexuality, Gerard does comics, Haunting, M/M, Mikey's confused and cute, Oneshot, and Mikey has this shitty neighbor, and Mikey works for him and hates it, and bruh it's totally a ghost like wow, and owns a store, but his neighbor isn't actually shitty, ghost - Freeform, he's just tired and thinks he has a ghost no worries, it's cute i promise, kinda slow build romance, someone take the keyboard from me, why do i even bother tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 07:33:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5618806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collettephinz/pseuds/wellthisisprettyrisque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey has work in the morning.</p><p>Mikey doesn't have time to help his neighbor investigate a ghost above him.</p><p>And Mikey definitely doesn't have the time to fall in love with said neighbor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Labels are Dumb (I Just Wanna Fall in Love and Go to Bed Without Ghost Above My Head)

**Author's Note:**

> Ryan/Mikey is my OTP
> 
> it's about damn time i wrote something for them
> 
> also i didn't reread this yet
> 
> i mean i will in a day or so but just
> 
> good luck man and my bad

Mikey had a stressful job.

Like, a really stressful job.

As in, the most stressful job anyone could ever have, ever.

It was because he worked for his brother.

His brother, big brother, big shining brother, big “why-can’t-you-be-more-like-your” brother.

Mikey loved his brother, he well and truly did, he loved his brother because his brother was nerdy and fun and cool and eccentric and creative and talented and smart and Mikey didn’t blame his parents for wishing Mikey could be more like his big, beloved brother. He wished he could be more like his brother, too. But Mikey was Mikey and Gee was Gerard, and Mikey wasn’t some mad scientist that could change those two constants, so working for his big brother Gee was stressful.

The job was basically letting Gee show him everything he was doing wrong, or not doing as well as Gee would have, while getting a somewhat-but-usually-un-satisfying paycheck. He had to listen to geeks and nerds and hipsters and desperate white girls try and convince Mikey that they knew whatever bullshit they were spouting better than the person before them. He had to stock his brother’s newly published and very successful comic books and listen to everyone tell him how talented Gee was and how Mikey should also be very talented, but fuck them, Mikey wasn’t talented at all, so fuck off and fuck you and fuck everyone else, Mikey just worked in a comic store his brother owned.

How pathetic was that?

How pathetic was he?

Had to mooch a job from his big “so-fucking-talented-the-stars-looked-dimmer-next-to-him” brother.

Mikey felt like a failure waking up, a failure going to work, a failure leaving work, and a failure going to bed. The worst part was that Gee was so fucking supportive and gave Mikey all this encouragement in the music Mikey made when Mikey could drag himself out of his apathetic stupor enough to actually make something cohesive. Mikey hated how nice and loving and caring his brother was towards him, and that made him feel even worse, because Gee didn’t deserve to be resented just for being a good fucking person.

Mikey was a shit person.

He had a shit job.

He had a shit apartment and a shit life and everything was shit.

. . .

There was some sort of clattering and banging next door to Mikey’s place as he tried to fall asleep in the armpit of fucking two A.M., and he wasn’t happy. Mikey hated being awake during the witching hour, so he was already doped up on sleep meds, melatonin, even cough medicine that didn’t contain the same shit as the sleeping pills. He was desperate and drugged and pissed that, not only could he not manage to fall asleep, but his asshole neighbor was throwing a fucking party or moving furniture or something at two fucking A.M.

There was muffled shouting, and Mikey wasn’t going to get up. He wasn’t. He had to work tomorrow, had to open the store up at eight, had to pick up donuts because Gee asked him to, and what Gee said was fucking law, so Mikey was already going to function of four hours of sleep at this point, god fucking dammit, he was going to fucking sleep!

There was a knock at his door.

Mikey stared at the stucco ceiling above him. He’d found Abraham Lincoln, John Lennon, and Reagan in the jagged patterns. His ceiling made him think of assassinated people, and if that wasn’t a testament to his waning sanity, Mikey didn’t know what else was. He lost his mind when he couldn’t find sleep. Mikey knew he shouldn’t open the door, because he’d blow up at that person. It was probably his neighbor, and he’d never met this neighbor, the neighbor to his stage left. He knew stage right—it was a grad student who held her life together with duct tape and new shoes and was doing so much better than Mikey. But he didn’t know his stage left neighbor.

Fuck, Mikey wanted to meet stage left.

He forced himself out of bed and watched the way his feet slid across the faux base boards and wondered why toes had toenails. Then he sluggishly looked upwards, to his door, that was just in front of the entrance into his bedroom. Kitchen to the left, living room to the right, Mikey hated his tiny apartment. But at least he wasn’t living with his big “I-own-a-fucking-penthouse-suite” brother.

Mikey groaned and rested his head on the wood of the entrance, not even remembering he had a peephole, as he opened the door. Mikey was already wrapping his lips around the slurred slurs he was about to throw at stage left when he actually saw what the guy looked like.

He… he was a fucking hippie. Or something.

He was wearing paisley pajamas and had an actual beaded headband wrapped around his curly, dark brow hair. He had the cutest button nose and was just as tall, skinny, and pale as Mikey was. Mikey wondered if everyone thought he looked as skeletal as stage left looked to him.

“There’s a ghost above my apartment,” stage left said.

Mikey watched him dumbly and replied, “I have work at seven.”

Stage left winced. “Look, I’m sorry. I really am. I, I just moved in, two days ago, and this is the first night I’ve spent here. And the landlord said that no one lives above me, but someone or something is up there, okay? So I came here to ask you if anyone lives up there, because Mr. Roscoe is nice, but he’s also pretty shady, and I’m pretty sure he tried to sell me meth.”

Mrs. Roscoe was their landlord.

Mikey wanted to slam the fucking door on this asshole, the fucking hippie who thought he was too good to buy meth. Mikey was willing to bet ten bucks he shot up every weekend and was just putting on some fucking “holier-than-thou” front just to get something or whatever.

“Ghosts don’t exist,” he said. Then, “no one lives up there.”

He shut the door and went to bed, not even bothering to see if stage left had left.

. . .

When he tried to go to work the next morning, he tripped over a fucking fruit basket.   
 A legitimate fucking fruit basket.

Mikey bent over to read the card on the front, wondering what the fuck it was going to say.

_‘yur an asshole thx’_

Mikey choked on the air in his throat and put the fruit basket inside his apartment before leaving with a smile on his face that he couldn’t explain.

. . .

“You look happy,” Gee “the-amazing-and-super-perceptive” said. Mikey just nodded as he went around the store, always restocking Gee’s comic. He wasn’t going to comment if Gee didn’t press because Mikey wasn’t the commenting type of guy. But Gee asked, “who is it?” and god dammit, that was an question begging for an answer.

“It’s not one,” Mikey grumbled. Then added, “it’s my neighbor. He thinks he has a ghost and knocked on my door at 2 A.M. and left me a gift basket saying I’m an asshole when I shut the door in his face.”

Gee laughed. “You can be an asshole.”   
Mikey wanted to throw these comics in Gee’s fucking face. But Mikey was an adult. And didn’t that just suck ass.

“Maybe you should get to know him,” Gee suggested with a happy grin. “You could use a friend.”

Mikey imagined bitch-slapping his brother to avoid exploding at him. “I have friends,” he said instead of what he was actually thinking. “I don’t need any more friends. I don’t even really want friends. I’m happy.”

Gee just kinda stared at him. Then said, “you have no friends.”

“Neither do you,” Mikey shot back, lying through his teeth.

Gee giggled. “I have a fiancé, you dork,” he said, nudging Mikey’s shoulder. “And a publisher and all that other shit. I’ve got fans and I know my neighbors really well and I’ve got you.”

“If you’ve got me, then I’ve got you too,” Mikey reasoned. “So there we go. Friend one.”

Gee giggled again and shrugged. “You’ve got Frankie, since he’s gonna be your brother soon. So hey! Mikey! You’ve got two friends!”

“Will you stop talking about this if I promise to talk to my neighbor?” Mikey asked.

Gerard giggled a final time and nodded.

. . .

Mikey got home around nine P.M. and felt shitty for what he was about to do.

Mikey knocked on stage left’s door.

There was no answer for a long while before Mikey was forced to knock again.

The door was opened abruptly and stage left stared at Mikey like he didn’t know what Mikey was doing there, which was totally what he was actually feeling and was actually happening. Stage left had no idea why Mikey was there.

“I promise I’m not that much of a dick,” Mikey said.

Stage left snorted. 

“Do you really think you have a ghost?” Mikey asked.

Stage left’s expression became less snarky and more tentative. 

“There isn’t a ghost,” Mikey said. “Like, that apartment above you? And this whole complex. It’s only three years old and no one’s died in here. I’m pretty sure no one’s ever even lived up there. There’s no way there can be a ghost because there’s no, like, build up or supernatural predecessor or whatever. There’s no trigger for any supernatural event. There’s no way you can have a ghost up there.”

“Something’s moving,” Stage left insisted. “Something up there is moving.”

“It’s gotta be wiring,” Mikey tried to reason.

“I’m gonna shut the door on your face.”

Mikey winced, knowing it was what he deserved. “Dude, no, hey, sorry. Look, just… I’m not an asshole. And I’m gonna help you. With your ghost, or whatever.” He held out his hand. “Mikey Way.”

Stage left took his hand. “Ryan Ross.”

. . .

“So, what do you do?” Mikey asked Stage Left, now Ryan Ross, as he looked around his neighbor’s apartment. There was a distinct lack of family photos and a plethora of posters with musicians and movies. It wasn’t hard to figure out that Ryan probably had as shitty taste in music as Mikey did. And by shitty, he meant awesome.

Beatles, Beatles, and more Beatles.

Then The Who, Misfits, Anthrax, fucking everything great. Mikey saw a signed Tool vinyl somewhere in Ryan’s rather extensive collection and smirked to himself.

“I own a venue,” Ryan said.

Mikey stopped looking around and looked to Ryan with new intrigue. “Yeah?”

Ryan nodded. “Yeah.”

“Which venue?”

Ryan shrugged. “The Green Gentleman.”

Mikey fucking gaped. “Dude,” he breathed, grinning and laughing a little. “I fucking love that place! You’ve got the best shit on tap, and I saw Primus there. Right? How’d you get Primus?”

Ryan shrugged again. “I’ve got connections, so--”   
Ryan cut himself off and looked up at the ceiling with a tight brow, biting his lip in apparent concentration.

Mikey frowned and looked to where he was looking, also concentrating. He was about to say he couldn’t hear anything when he actually did hear something. He heard something roll all the way from one end of the corner of the ceiling to the other, and then a ghostly sound whistled above and holy shit.

“Is that a ghost?” Mikey asked.

“That fucking is!” Ryan almost shouted. “It fucking is!” He kicked his sofa, a nice leather sofa, and looked like he was willing to break shit. Mikey smirked again, really kinda enjoying the passion and the way Ryan kinda wore all his anger on his sleeve. It would be easy to tell if Ryan was mad at Mikey or not, because he would definitely show it if he was.

“I have a fucking ghost above me and I’m about to fucking call the cops on the fucking landlord because he doesn’t fucking believe me!”

“She,” Mikey corrected.

Ryan faltered. “What?”

“She,” Mikey repeated. “I know, yeah. She’s not transgender or anything, she just really looks and sounds like a dude. Don’t worry about it. I called her “mister” for a really long time and she didn’t even bother to correct me.”

Ryan chortled. “Okay, well, she. I need her to fucking take me seriously. Something is up there. I’m gonna fucking prove it.”

“Let me know how it goes,” Mikey said.

“What?” Ryan turned to look at Mikey, away from the ceiling. “You, you’re gonna leave?”

Mikey arched a brow, not feeling the need to say a word.

“I just…” Ryan shrugged, and Mikey wondered if he did that a lot, or if he was just kinda awkward. “There, there’s a ghost. Right? And, uh, I don’t like ghosts. I don’t like it. So, like, I know that you and I barely know each other, but, like, that’s a good couch.”

Mikey chuckled. “Are you asking me to stay over?”

“You can take the bed if you’d like,” Ryan added. “I’ll take the couch.”

“I’ll take the couch, stranger,” Mikey said in a drawl.

Ryan hesitated. “A-are you sure?”

Mikey nodded. 

Ryan smiled a bit. “Thanks. Uh, sorry for calling you an asshole.”

Mikey snorted. “Dude, I don’t care. I’ve been called worse.”

Ryan nodded back. “I… If I take a shower, will you, like, try to stab me? Or rape me? Or something?”

“Dude, I ain’t gay,” Mikey snickered.

Ryan looked weirdly weird about that.

“I’m just gonna crash on your couch and protect you from the ghosts,” Mikey said, moving to the couch and dropping onto his, draping his lanky legs everywhere. He couldn’t explain how fucking relaxed he was around this guy. 

Probably because they got that “asshole” name out in the open from the beginning, and Mikey was still reeling from the fact that he was maybe considering there was possibly a ghost above Ryan’s apartment. This place had the exact same layout as his own apartment, except with a few added square feet, and Mikey could have sworn that this was his own home because there was a vinyl collection like his own and he identified with the posters on a personal level.

Also, Ryan seemed pretty fucking genuine for a weird guy.

. . .

“Oh my god, you spent the night?” Gee asked with wide eyes and a wide mouth. “Dude, what! What about Alicia? And, and that one girl? And all those girls?”

“I’m not gay, Gee,” Mikey said with an eye roll.

“You’re totally gay,” Gee insisted. “You stayed over at your neighbor’s house.”

“To help him get rid of his ghost,” Mikey reminded him. “And his name is Ryan. He owns that venue we saw Primus at and has an awesome leather sofa that feels so fucking amazing. I slept so well on that thing. Oh my god, I love it so much.”

“You need to be gay so mom and dad can stop calling me an abomination,” Gee giggled.

Mikey paused before remembering that their parents didn’t think that about Gee at all and Gee was just being Gee and trying to find some sort of way to relate to him, if he even could. This was the most backwards and incorrect way of relating to Mikey. Like, Mikey didn’t give a shit about any of that shit. At all.

“You and I need to go book shopping,” Gee said. “For ghost stuff. So you can see how it’s dealt with, and what kind of ghosts there can be, and maybe watch a TV show? Oh, and we should make sure that you have, like, a phone number to call in case this is real. Has furniture been moving? Do you think this is a haunting or a poltergeist?”

“I don’t think it’s anything,” Mikey said, though he was halfway lying through his teeth. “I just think he’s a guy who moved into a new place and is fucking paranoid. That’s all. There’s nothing actually serious. He’s a weird guy and thinks weird shit.”

“Don’t be mean to him,” Gee chided. “I’ll bet he’s just lonely.”

Mikey frowned. “What?”

Gee shrugged. “Lonely. He has to be lonely. You could be a good friend for him! And I’ll get you all the literature on this stuff. It’ll be great. You guys can bond over ghosts and fall in love and I’ll be the best man, and it’ll be so cute!”

“You need to calm down,” Mikey snorted.   “You need to not be an asshole,” Gee teased.

Mikey narrowed his eyes and ignored his “so-fucking-perfect-he-can’t-do-fucking-wrong” brother.

. . .

“Okay, so, I heard it again,” Ryan told Mikey after Mikey had gotten home. Ryan had been leaning against the wall next to Mikey’s apartment door. “And I heard hissing. Like, actual hissing that wasn’t the pipes or anything. I’m saying we go up there and find out what it is.”

“I have a better idea,” Mikey said. “Let’s get dinner. Outside the apartment.” It was a random idea that had occurred to him while stocking Marvel’s Daredevil comics. He barely even knew Ryan, but the guy was obviously invested in getting somebody’s help with his ghost, and it seemed that Mikey was the only one willing to put up with that shit. He felt like he needed to get to know Ryan before diving any further into the rabbit hole. “On me,” he added, wanting to go the extra mile to convince Ryan he should get dinner with him. Not for a date. Just, like. A thing.

Ryan frowned. “We need to get rid of this ghost, Mikey Way.”

“Oh god, just Mikey,” Mikey sighed. “And, I mean, you and I should get to know each other a little better. I’m gonna be seeing you for a while cause of this ghost thing, so I feel like I should get to know you as a person. What you like and dislike and what you want and shit. Might as well, right?”

Ryan paused. “… Where do you wanna go?”

“Are you a vegetarian?” Mikey asked, because that would definitely influence his decision.

Ryan snorted. “I live off of pepperoni pizza.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Mikey said. “Let’s go to TGI Fridays or something. Eat some ribs and drink beer and be stupid adults. That’s the best way to get to know someone else.”

“I don’t get drunk,” Ryan scoffed. 

. . .

“And another thing!” Ryan slurred, waving his beer precariously in the air. “Your, your cheekbones! What the fuck are your cheekbones, Mikey Way? They could cut a steak be’er than my knife! I need Mikey Way knives!” 

Mikey giggled and nearly fell off of his stool, eating another bacon potato skin. “They’re gene’ic,” he teased.

“Genetics my ass! You’re fucking… fucking…” Ryan waved his hands in the air. “I don’ even know!”

“I wan’ another drink,” Mikey said before trying to wave down their waiter. “Vodka! Tequila! Shots! Gimme more!”

Ryan giggled and grabbed Mikey’s hand in the air to wave it around even more. “More booze, boozie!”

“Boozey is a ghost my brother’s fiancé made up,” Mikey supplied helpfully, grinning and moving in his stool, squirming his hips. “His name is Frank and he drew this little ghost called Boozey and all he does is flip people off. I like it. I like Frank.” He drank more of whatever he was drinking. “I wish I liked my brother.”

“You don’ like your brother?” Ryan asked with wide eyes. “I-I wish I ha’ a brother. I wish I ha’ a family.”

Mikey tilted his head slowly to look to Ryan. “You’re alone?”

Ryan shrugged.

“Nah,” Mikey hummed. “Yer no’ alone.”

“I am,” Ryan mumbled.

Mikey shook his head. “You’re no’.”

Ryan nodded vehemently. “I’m alone, Mikey,” he insisted. “I, I got broken up with by my boyfrien’. My mom and da’ are gone. I-I had to go to my neighbor for help…” Ryan looked into his drink with an expression that Mikey didn’t like. “I’m so alone… No one wants me.”

Mikey reached forward unsteadily and poked Ryan’s inner wrist. “Howdy, neighbor,” he giggled. “I’m here.”

Ryan looked up with broken eyes. “Do you resent me?”

Mikey scoffed and giggled and shook his head. “You’re a cool guy,” he said. “I like you.”

“There’s a lot you don’ know bout me, Mikey…”

Mikey shrugged. “So tell me.” He took another drink, finishing his glass and waving for another.

Ryan paused. “… My da’ hit me a lot.”

Mikey sobered up faster than he’d ever sobered up before.

“Do you still wanna know me?” Ryan asked in a tiny voice.

Mikey nodded because he didn’t trust his voice.

Ryan looked suddenly and shakily hopeful, like he didn’t want to believe he could even possibly believe that Mikey would consider hanging out around him. 

Poor kid.

“I’m here,” Mikey said, his voice a little strangled. “I, I’m here.”

Ryan suddenly smiled so brightly that Mikey got whiplash. It was a complete 180 and Ryan was probably one of the weirdest guys Mikey had ever met. He kinda liked it.

“Let’s get you some water,” Mikey said.

“Le’s get me home!” Ryan giggled.

Mikey slid off the stool, gave Ryan his arm, and took him home.

. . .

“I have a ghost,” Ryan said, staring up at the ceiling. He was still drunk, but only barely. The cab ride home had helped him sober. “I have a ghost,” Ryan repeated. “I should name it. Him. Her?” Ryan narrowed his eyes above. “Her. She walks in heels. Her name is Patricia. She likes to dance and she had a cat.”

“You’re crazy,” Mikey said.

“I’m crazy as a coconut!” he giggled.

“As a coconut,” Mikey repeated to humor him.

Ryan turned around and strode towards Mikey with intent in his eyes. “We’re gonna kill this ghost,” he whispered, sounding deadly serious. “You, and me, and the trees. We’re gonna kill the ghost and live happily ever after.”

“After sleep,” Mikey giggled. 

Ryan nodded almost sagely, then reached out to brushed his fingertips under Mikey’s jaw. Mikey’s skin felt like fire under the touch. “After sleep,” Ryan echoed before turning around and going into the bedroom. When he locked the door, Mikey knew the night was over, and went to pass out on the couch.

. . .

“You guys did what?” Gee asked with an almost worried frown.

“Went out,” Mikey sighed. “Got drunk. Went home. Slept.”

“You got drunk with a perfect stranger?”

Mikey shrugged. “He’s not a stranger anymore.”

Gee bit his lip. “… Don’t trust him too early, Mikey. He could be a bad person.”

Mikey couldn’t see Ryan ever being bad. But he wasn’t eager to start a fight with his “end-all-wars” brother, so he just didn’t respond.

. . .

“Have you ever been with a guy?” Ryan asked Mikey when Mikey came over that night with his arms full of books Gee had gotten him under his nose.

Mikey frowned a bit. “Uh, yeah. One guy. Just once. It was a year or so ago, a random hookup at the bar, one night stand sort of deal. I’m friends with him on Facebook. Sometimes we chat, but it’s nothing really committed. Why?”

Ryan shrugged. “I was curious. You dress too well for a straight guy.”

Mikey snorted and shook his head, setting the books down on the table. “Dick.”

“Asshole,” Ryan replied, smooth as honey. “Tell me about it?”

“About what?”

“The guy.”

Mikey sat on the couch and pursed his lips. “Not much to tell. He was this really hot guy at the bar who’d just played a set with this band. The lead singer of that band was gorgeous, but the guy I slept with? The bassist. He was just sex. And he noticed me, met me after the set, we hit it off, had a couple drinks, and then he fucked me in the back of my car.”

Ryan’s expression was unreadable. “What did he look like?”

“Black hair, wide smile, kinda short, really poetic.”

“Did he have a tattoo of a bat-heart thing over his belly button?”

Mikey paused. “… Maybe.”

“Pete Wentz,” Ryan told him, and Mikey was wondering how Ryan knew the name of the guy who had fucked Mikey in the back of his fucking car, jesus.

“I swear I’m not a slut,” Mikey told Ryan.

Ryan chuckled a bit. “If what you did makes you a slut, then so am I.”

Mikey paused again. “Wait, you and…”

Ryan nodded. “Only, it wasn’t the back of a car. He and his band, Fall Out Boy— they were playing a show at my venue. The guy was really flirtatious, and so fucking confident. My boyfriend and I were off again, so I figured I could have some fun. He fucked me on the stage once we were all closed up for the night.”

Mikey laughed and clapped his hands. “Damn, Ross! That’s some raunchy shit.”

Ryan smirked a bit. “You know me. So daring.” He sounded sarcastic, so Mikey took that as a sign that Ryan didn’t do this sort of thing often.

“He was a good lay, right?” Mikey asked, just to keep the conversation going. “Fucking nice dick. I’ve never taken a dick before, but I knew that his was something, like. Uh. Big.”

Ryan shrugged. “I guess.”

Mikey arched brow. “You what? You guess? How can you guess? Did you see the size of that thing?”

Ryan nodded. “I counted seven inches.”

Mikey scoffed. “And what, you’ve seen bigger?”

Ryan nodded again. “I have bigger.”

Mikey couldn’t respond.

Ryan smirked a bit. “Nine inches.”

Mikey’s brain went blank. Truth be told, he hadn’t really dabbled with men because he was weird and it took a certain something to turn him on, and that was a big dick up his ass, and only that. He could think men were hot, could be physically attracted to them, but his own dick wouldn’t make an entrance if the guy wasn’t anything less than spectacular. Kinda fucked up, but he’d googled it and learned he was what they called a “size queen.” That was a little took gay for him, so he just called himself straight and added a mental asterisk. 

So, really, Mikey didn’t think twice when he said, “show me.”

Ryan’s brow shot sky high. “What?”

“Show me,” Mikey repeated. Then he added, “to prove it. Cause I totally don’t believe you.” 

Ryan looked really lost. “… Are you sure? Cause, I just… I’m hella gay. And you’re hella not.”

“Show me,” Mikey said again. He was curious, and maybe a little something else, but he wasn’t going to admit to that.

Ryan hesitated, before he sat at the table and faced Mikey. He splayed his legs apart and Mikey suddenly wondered why he was so willing to do this, because everything was so fucking weird. 

Ryan pulled his dick from his pants and… and he was definitely much bigger than Pete.

And see, Mikey was straight. So straight that he didn’t have a steering wheel because he was never gonna go anywhere but straight. But sometimes, someone would through spikes in the road and Mikey would swerve. Pete’s dick was one of those spikes. And so was Ryan’s dick.

Mikey was straight, but out of nowhere, Mikey’s mouth was watering. Actually watering a little. He couldn’t explain it, he was fucking straight! But he had this memory of bracing himself on the leather seats, panting and begging as Pete’s cock stretched him open and was shoved deeper into Mikey’s body with each thrust, and god, Ryan’s dick could do that. Deeper, even. Ryan’s dick could go deeper and Mikey wanted that in the weirdest way. 

He was straight.

He was really straight.

That being said, what he asked for next was a bit of a surprise.

. . .

“You did what?!” Gee squeaked, sounding shrill and really freaked out.

“I asked to suck his dick,” Mikey mumbled. His entire posture was slumped. The previous night hadn’t gone well. Mikey had blurted out the request and Ryan had laughed nervously, but not said a word. Ryan made dinner silently, and they read the books. Then Mikey went back to his place and went to bed and had the biggest fucking erection for the rest of the night and far into the morning. He was too straight to take care of it himself. He just really wanted Ryan’s dick in his mouth.

“You… you’re straight, Mikey. Aren’t you?”

Mikey nodded.

“Then why did you—”

“What’s a good sex shop to buy dildos at?” Mikey interrupted.

Gee’s face went scarlet.

Mikey smirked, kinda proud of himself. 

“W-why would you want that?” Gee asked.

Mikey shrugged. “Ryan’s got a big dick. I still wanna suck his dick, even if he said no, so if I get something that’s basically a dick and basically the same size, I can pretend choke on it and get off that way without feeling like some faggy piece of shit.”

Gee flinched at the slur and Mikey winced.

“I… I don’t mean that.”

Gee nodded shallowly. “I know you didn’t,” he mumbled. “I know that you don’t mean that about anyone but yourself.” Gee suddenly looked a little sad. He wasn’t looking at Mikey. He really hadn’t been this whole time, not since he’d said the word. Mikey didn’t get it. “I wish you would just let yourself be who you are and not give a shit about the label, you know? You’re a good kid. An amazing kid. You’ve saved my life, Mikey, but you live in my shadow and I try to stop that from happening, it’s just never enough for you to fee the confidence and acceptance you should.” Gee finally met Mikey’s eyes with a broken expression. “People say I’m amazing and that you must be proud to be my brother, but you’re my hero, Mikey.”

When Mikey didn’t respond, Gee kept going.

“I, I know that I get to you,” Gee said sadly, looking down again. “I know you hate me because I make you look bad. Or, you think I make you look bad. But I don’t. Mean it. I, I look up to you, Mikey. The way you don’t listen to anyone but yourself, how you know it’s all bullshit. Nothing gets to you, nothing that shouldn’t. Not like me. I hear one bad thing about me or my work, and suddenly I’m in tears. But you tell me to suck it to, that it’s bullshit, that they’re jealous, a-and that helps. That really helps.” He smiled shakily, but still couldn’t look at Mikey. “I just need you to know that no matter what, no matter how much you hate me, I-I love you. And I need you. And I just want you to not hate my so much.”

Mikey felt ill. “I… I don’t hate you, Gee.”

“You do,” his big brother whimpered.

“I don’t,” he denied, voice choked with emotion. “Hey, Gee? I don’t hate you.” He stepped towards his brother and put an arm around his shoulders. “Gee, just… It’s hard. To measure up to you. Everyone says I’m no good next to you. Not in those words exactly, but close enough.” He sighed. “I don’t hate you, though. I guess I just hate what they say.”

“I know you’re gay, Mikey,” Gee said, and Mikey bristled, ready to argue, but Gee cut him off. “At least a little, okay? That thing you had with that bassist, and now Ryan? You’re kinda obsessed with him. You barely ever talk, but when you do? Most of the time, it’s about Ryan. Like, seventy-five percent of the time. It’s about Ryan or his ghost or how you know it’s not a ghost. And you offered to suck his dick last night without even being drunk! You were at least slightly drunk with the bassist. But Ryan? You were sober, weren’t you? Stone cold sober.”

Mikey grimaced. He’d been sober as the fucking grave then.

“I’m just saying,” Gee told him tentatively. “Maybe you should ask him out. Or maybe just consider pursuing him. You said he had a boyfriend. That means he’s gay, or at least bisexual, and you’re a good looking guy! You’re the hot one of the family.”

Mikey snorted and Gee shrugged. “You are. You’ve always had the attention of boys and girls and everything in between. I’m just lucky Frank met me first, or I would’ve missed out on him to you.”

“That’s ridiculous, Gee,” Mikey said bluntly, because it totally was.

Gee winced. “Okay, yeah, that, that’s dumb. But I mean it. You’re the attractive one. You’re skinny and pretty and manly and you’re all angles and curves and you’re smart and strong and amazing. I’m chubby and weird and I hate showering. I’ve only got Frankie by pure luck and my weird charm that only works on him. But you can have anyone with a cock of your hip and the right look in your eye. You get that, right? You can get anyone and everything you want. You just don’t know how to ask for it anymore. But when you were little?” Gerard smiled fondly and shook his head. “You could get away with the craziest things with just a bat of your eyelashes.”

“Gee, stop,” Mikey sighed.

Gee stopped abruptly and Mikey realized that that wasn’t really what he’d wanted.

“Look at me,” he requested softly. 

Gee looked up only after a few long seconds of tense anxiety. His eyes were wide and vulnerable and Mikey knew that if he could tear his brother down ten years of progress wth just a few words. He could undo the therapy and love and comfort Gee had been given to help him become the successful person he was today. Mikey could destroy all of that with a few words, he could destroy his brother with just one sentence.

But Mikey wasn’t that type of person.

So, instead of saying any words at all, Mikey moved forward and wrapped his arms around his brother in a hug. And it felt like it had for all of his life. Mikey hadn’t allowed himself to hug Gee in almost two years because Mikey was a stubborn son of a bitch and a piece of shit. He knew Gee needed these things, but Mikey’s pride wouldn’t let him. He could only take these small moments and know that, in the end, he could never truly hurt his brother.

. . .

“My brother wants to help us find your ghost,” Mikey told Ryan.

“The brother that you don’t like eve though I know you like him?” Ryan asked as he organized something in his vinyls. Mikey was over at Ryan’s apartment, mostly because he’d felt the need to apologize about offering to suck Ryan’s dick. But Ryan hadn’t even let him finish half the apology before holding up a bottle of wine and telling Mikey they were going to watch the ghost hunting show on the Discovery Channel.

“Gee,” Mikey told him. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever told Ryan the name of his brother before, but he didn’t care if he had and Ryan and forgotten. Ryan had venue shit to think about. 

“Gerard, right?”

Mikey shrugged. He always called his brother Gee.

“He draws comics, right? Umbrella Academy?”

Mikey’s face fell a little. “You know him,” he observed more than asked.

“I looked him up,” Ryan told him. Mikey turned to stare at Ryan’s back, a little confused. “After you told me your name.” Ryan glanced at Mikey over his shoulder with a small shrug of his lips. “I always google names. It’s how I do background checks for employees. Make sure they never made the news and shit. Gerard Way came up with your name, so I figured it was someone you’re related to. Guess I know it’s you’re brother now.”

Mikey was so fucking relieved.

“You’re awesome,” was all he said about the matter. He didn't want to seem jealous or anything. That would be so unattractive.

Unattractive? Jesus.

“Let’s order pizza to go with this wine, because we’re classy,” Ryan said while Mikey suddenly started to freak out internally. “I wanna be white trash tonight.”

Mikey just stared at the floor.

Unattractive.

He didn’t want Ryan to think he was unattractive.

Jesus.

. . .

“Okay, so I’m not gay, but Ryan’s weird,” Mikey told Gee.

Gee started giggling and had this look on his face that made Mikey want to call him a total fucking asshole.

“He’s cute,” Gee hummed. “You’re cute. Go be cute with him. Please? I think it’ll be really good for you. When was the last time you were in a relationship? An actual thing, not just some fun that could maybe be more, but never ended up that way. You need a boyfriend, Mikey. But specifically? You need Ryan. I think it’ll be fun.”

“He’s my neighbor who thinks he has a ghost,” Mikey reminded him with a bland expression. “He owns some venue and had a shitty childhood. I’m some dumb kid who can’t make a name for himself outside of his brother’s shadow.”

Gee’s face fell, and Mikey felt bad again.

“I don’t mind being in your shadow,” Mikey told him softly. “It’s safer there. I have money and a home and you. I really don’t mind it as much as I complain. I’m sorry, Gee.” He moved forward to rest a hand on his big brother’s shoulder, uncaring of the customers that were milling about the store. “I love you, Gee, okay? I’m just a whiny brat.”

“No, you’re not,” Gee denied sadly. “I, I should have paid more attention to your feelings. I’m sorry.”

Mikey shook his head. “Dude, fuck my feelings. You had a career and fiancé to worry about. I was just your shitty kid brother who was an attention whore and a selfish asshole.”

“Please stop saying these things about yourself,” Gee almost whispered. “Just… I’ll always be here for you, Mikey. I love you too.”

Mikey smiled a little. “I’ll ask Ryan out,” he said, knowing that taking Gee’s advice would mean more to him than most words Mikey could spill out past his lips. Gee just wanted to know that Mikey valued his opinion, and there was no better way to show that than to do it.

Gee smiled wider. “Good luck.”

. . .

“It’s totally a poltergeist,” Ryan told Mikey as he poked at the ceiling with the bottom of his broom. “And I’m starting to lose my god damn mind over this.”

Mikey heard a wail come from above them and shuddered. “So, look, I… I was thinking…”

“Did it hurt?” Ryan snorted. Mikey smirked a bit. He kinda loved to hate Ryan’s shitty, overused jokes.

“Oh, totally,” he responded dryly. “I think I had an aneurysm. Now I’m deaf in one earned strawberries smell like toast or something.” Ryan giggled, and Mikey felt accomplished. “But, uh, I really was thinking,” he continued. “And, I was just wondering if you’d like to get, like, coffee. Sometime.”

“Another lunch thing?” Ryan asked. “Didn’t think we’d need that again. We know each other pretty well already. Like, in example, I am well acquainted with your oral fixation.” Ryan sent him a teasing wink and Mikey just rolled his eyes.

“Ryan, I wanna take you on a date,” he sighed, deciding to take the direct route. “Get you out of this crazy place and treat you like a princess or something.”

Ryan paused. “… Wait. Are you being serious right now?”

Mikey nodded. He wasn’t going to beat around the bush.

“Dude, you’re straight,” Ryan said, like he felt like he had to remind Mikey.

“Wow, no way,” Mikey replied monotonously. “I had no idea, considering all the pussy I’ve drowned in, and the lack of dicks I’ve actually sucked, regardless of what I may or may not have propositioned earlier this week. I had no idea that I’m straight. That’s news to me.”

Ryan chuckled, shaking his head. “… Are you serious? About the date?”

“Yes,” Mikey said with a simple shrug.

Ryan bit his lip. It was a good look. “I’m down.”

. . .

The date was a simple run to a quaint diner and a walk down the old town square. There were lights decorating the palm trees and Ryan had this weird habit of stepping over a concrete sidewalk crack an even amount of times for each foot. Ryan had almost tripped over himself, but Mikey had caught him and they’d just laughed like idiots.

It had been purely exploratory. Hardly romantic. Two friends going out and seeing how they functioned beyond a supposed spectre.

Except Mikey found himself reaching for Ryan’s hand over and over and that kinda annoyed him. He really wasn’t sure how he was gay now, and why it had to be Ryan. Mikey would have guessed he would have discovered his rampantly diverse sexuality through some movie scene or maybe a random happening in a public bathroom at the gym. A weird moment in watching porn where they showed the dude’s face right at the wrong moment, only it would turn out to be the right moment for Mikey.

“I’m kinda pissed that I’m into you,” Mikey sighed. 

Ryan frowned. “Well, thanks? I guess.”

“No, not like that,” he huffed. Mikey looked down at the concrete river of their city. They’d been walking home, but Ryan had seen this ice cream parlor and had bought them both cola floats. Mikey’s was finished and Ryan was sharing his own because Mikey was now an addict to this delicious beverage. It was cold tonight, but the float was well worth the doubly-frozen fingers. 

“I don’t know,” Mikey continued, kinda frustrated with himself. “I just figured I’d be gay from seeing the ass of a football star or an attractive male singer. I didn’t think it’d be my haunted neighbor. Like, literally haunted. You’ve got something up there.”

“I’ve already called a fucking exorcist or hunter or whatever you call that bullshit,” Ryan grumbled. 

Mikey smirked. “I wanna be there for that. But really, it’s weird that you’re the person to make me question my sexuality. You’re pretty, yeah. You’re also really hot. And sexy. And all three of those things are very different, but you’re still all of them. So, like, aesthetically, it’s not weird at all. But you’re Ryan.”

“Yes,” Ryan affirmed with a slow nod. “Yes, I am. Thank you for such a keen observation.”

“I just don’t understand why it was my neighbor,” Mikey said. “Why it was you. Like, I don’t even know if it’s cause you’re my type, but you can’t be. Like, I’ve seen people who look like you, dudes who look like you, and I didn’t even consider it. I only started to second guess all of this once I started to actually get to know you. So, like, does that mean I’m actually gay, but just didn’t know it cause not a lot of my friends are dudes?”

Ryan snorted. “Mikey?”

Mikey looked to Ryan expectantly.

“Does it really matter?”

When Mikey didn’t answer, Ryan leaned in to press their lips together.

It occurred to Mikey, as they kissed, that for all his questioning, Mikey hadn’t even bothered to find out if Ryan was gay.

. . .

“Okay, so Harry and I are gonna set up cameras in all the Northwest corners of all the main rooms,” Ed told Ryan, looking and sounding very professional. Mikey kinda thought they were a thing because Ed and Harry would share these long looks that make Mikey suspect something more was happening behind the scenes.

Mikey had stayed over at Ryan’s apartment after their date. Nothing had happened. Ryan had put on a vinyl and poured some Baileys and they’d just talked about curtains versus blinds, art deco, the Hadean period, universal charge ports, just fucking everything. It had been one of the most chill and enjoyable nights Mikey could ever remember having. And then they’d fallen asleep on the floor together, leaning against the couch, only to be roused at seven in the morning by the ghost hunters Ryan had called.

They were kinda fucking hilarious, regardless of how professionally they were acting.

Ryan looked a little like he was three steps from calling these guys out. Ryan really was a no-nonsense type of guy, and it was weird, because it made Mikey’s stomach jump pleasantly.

“Now, you say you’ve seen the entity?” Harry asked.

“No, I haven’t,” Ryan replied stiffly. “I never said I saw it. I just said I’ve heard it. Only ever heard it. Just above my head. The ghost isn’t in my apartment, it’s above me. Why aren’t you putting cameras up there?”

“Normally, we find that paranormal entities only make themselves known to the people they want to take their abilities out on,” Ed told Ryan snidely, looking so fucking arrogant. “The entity has token your apartment, otherwise you wouldn’t know it exists. You probably missed some sort of event in your apartment. Don’t worry, we’ll catch the image with the cameras. You can rest assured that we’re going to get rid of this ghost.”

“How much salt do you have in this place?” Harry asked.

. . .

 _“No, Mikey, I need you to stay the night,”_ Ryan told Mikey over the phone while Mikey was on lunch break. _“These, these fucking fucks, they’re so fucking weird. They’re so fucking creepy. They keep arguing about Buffy and these two brothers who annoy them and then sing the Battlestar Galactic theme, and I’m losing my god damn mind, Mikey! Help me!”_

“We’ve been on one date,” Mikey reminded him as he ate his sandwich. “Isn’t it a bit soon for me to be spending the night at your place?”

_“You’ve spent the night at my place, like, ten times, Mikey, you ass.”_

Mikey snickered and Gee giggled with him from across the table at the sandwich shoppe they were eating at. “Why are you so scared, Ryan? What’s got you so messed up?”

 _“These fucking guys, maybe?”_ Mikey could hear the frown on Ryan’s face and he could picture how adorable hat was. _“They’re wandering around and they’re so messy. I’ve been cleaning up after them all morning. They’re trying to put cameras in my bedroom! In my fucking shower, Mikey!”_

Mikey stiffened, anger bristling deep in his gut. “They’re what?” he asked in a dangerously low voice.

Ryan snorted. _“Wow, okay, of course that got your attention.”_

Gee giggled harder. He could hear the conversation because Mikey was slowly losing his hearing from all the shows he went toad how loud the music would be in his headphones. 

“I’m spending the night at your place,” Mikey huffed. “I’ll sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag by your bed. We’re not letting those assholes get in your bedroom, okay? They can sleep under the god damn dining room table for all I care. But there are fucking boundaries to this.”

“You’re so possessive,” Gee giggled, squirming and looking ready to tease the shit out of Mikey. He hadn’t had the opportunity to mess with his little brother over something like this in years.

 _“Why don’t you just sleep in my bed?”_ Ryan suggested almost shyly. _“I mean, there’s room. It’s a king bed. And I’ve got blankets and shit, and then there’s the fact that we’re, you know, uh…”_

“Boyfriends?” Mikey finished for him. “After one date?”

 _“Well, I like you,”_ Ryan huffed. _“And we’re going on a second date. And a third. And a hundred more, so, I can call you boyfriend. Or do you not want to? Because that’ll suck for you. I like you way too much, and we’re neighbors, so you literally can’t run away.”_

Mikey smiled happily at Ryan’s confession. “I’d love to sleep in your bed tonight. Make you feel so safe in my arms. I’ll sing you to sleep, baby.”

 _“Fuck you,”_ Ryan snorted with an audible grin, before hanging up.

. . .

Ryan stood on one end of the bed, and Mikey stood on the opposite. They stared at each other over the folded sheets, then stared at the bed. They’d already negotiated who would sleep on which side, and Mikey took the window side, because he fucking loved that side since Gee would always complain and grumble and roll around and bitch about moonlight, lamplight, streetlight, and sunlight all coming through the window to disrupt his sleep. Mikey was just accustom to the window side now, and Ryan had no arguments against that.

But actually getting in the bed was proving to be difficult.

There was this underlying knowledge that there were two strange men in the living room, eating hot wings that Ryan had bought for them, and Mikey was totally certain they were gay or at least fucking and not talking about it the next morning. It was just weird that these two guys would be just beyond the door the first night that Mikey and Ryan actually slept together. Not, like, _together_ together— just together. 

Mikey was really nervous and Ryan didn’t look much better.

“Close our eyes and count to three?” Ryan suggested.

Mikey nodded.

Ryan nodded too, then, shut his eyes, and counted down from three.

At three, Mikey rolled into the bed, eyes shut, and suddenly realized how stupid of an idea this was halfway through when his skull clunked painful against Ryan’s. There was a sharp flash of light, and Ryan actually cried out. They both dropped to opposite sides, cradling their heads.

“ _Oh my god, why,_ ” Ryan choked out. Mikey couldn’t say anything. His head really fucking hurt. He felt Ryan move, spin around on the bed, and then Mikey realized that his head was cushioned by a pillow, so Ryan was probably turning around to rest his own poor head on a pillow too. 

“We should have known that was dumb,” Mikey mumbled.

“I can feel my brain throbbing,” Ryan whimpered.

Mikey winced in empathy and pulled his hands away from his had long enough to reach out and maybe pet Ryan’s hair. But Ryan’s hair turned out to be only a few inches away, so Mikey opened his eyes and saw how close they were. He blushed and felt so fucking gay that it really annoyed him.

Ryan’s lashes then fluttered open and he looked like a god damn, motherfucking princess.

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” Ryan asked out of nowhere, voice a soft whisper, intimate and curious. Mikey wasn’t sure where the question came from, and he was more worried about Ryan’s head right now, but it was such an innocent question that had this odd, underlying tone of being very important, and Mikey had this feeling that he couldn’t ignore the question without ruining something between them.

“I wanted to be my brother,” he answered honestly. “My mother adored him. Had hopes for his future. Then I was born, and it was like she’d put all her effort into him, couldn’t be bothered with me anymore. I wanted to be him so I could have the hopeful future she’d said he was going to have.”

Ryan’s expression had slowly become downcast with Mikey’s explanation. “Fuck her,” he said, and Mikey smirked a bit, because he liked how Ryan didn’t even bother to hide the fact that he despised parents. Ryan wouldn’t sugarcoat and change himself for anyone’s feelings and Mikey really liked that, because he fucking hated it when people sugarcoated or changed their self for Mikey’s feelings. Mikey valued honestly and Ryan was the most honest person he’d ever known.

“You don’t have to live up to any fucking expectations, and especially not bullshit ones your parents gave you,” Ryan continued, eyes flashing with something feverish. “And fuck her, because parents aren’t supposed to chose a kid. They’re supposed to either give everything to both kids, or nothing to either. You’re just as special and amazing as Gerard and you’re gonna do fucking amazing things too and your mom can go fuck herself because you have just as much potential in your fingers than Gerard has in his whole body.”

Mikey snorted. He wouldn’t go that far. But god, it was nice to hear someone so explicitly and passionately believe in Mikey like this. Gee would always drop a line or two about how he knew Mikey was gonna do great things, but it had never been like this. Gee had never sounded so vehement and positive and even angry at others who had suggested Mikey couldn’t. Mikey kinda really liked the idea of being support and believed in and shit. It was corny and stupid, but something Mikey had always wanted and eagerly searching for.

“Don’t make fun of what I say, and don’t doubt me,” Ryan said firmly, eyes narrowed. “You’re fucking amazing. You’ve got talent that I know you don’t like talking about because you think it’s stupid or something, but you can play the bass and you’re learning guitar, I can hear that through the walls, and you’ve got this presence around you and you should be fucking onstage or something, and I…”

When Ryan trailed off, Mikey waited patiently for all of five seconds before he nudged Ryan’s shoulder with a single finger, wanting to get something out of him. He was a bit offset by the frantic rambling just fading into this silence while Ryan was wide eyed and obviously thinking something. It was almost nerve-wracking and definitely too suspenseful for Mikey right now. His head was still throbbing and he was suddenly hyperaware of the fact that he could feel Ryan’s breath brushing his lips and cheek. “Ry?” he whispered, using a nickname for Ryan for the first time. “You still with me?”

“If I gave you a drummer, guitarist, and a singer, would you preform onstage?” Ryan asked. 

Mikey paused. “… What?”

“At my venue. I’ll pay you and everything. You can do a show, be part of an upcoming band, we’ll get your name out there and it’ll be amazing. Can you write? Or compose? I can do both, if you need help. We’ll get your name out there and you’ll start making that fucking future that your mom was such a god damn cocksucker about.”

Mikey was ready to say something when there was suddenly a horrible, crashing sound just above their head, like something had fallen to the floor and shattered. There was a yowl and wind and wild scratching, like someone was trying to get away, and Ryan actually screamed and scrambled forward to hide in Mikey’s chest while Mikey just stared above them, mouth agape. Ed and Harry suddenly burst into the room with a camera and a flashlight and, and a fucking shotgun?

“Get that the fuck out of here!” Mikey shouted when he saw the shotgun. He started to reach for his phone, but Ed stopped him, saying there was just salt in it, and jesus, Mikey needed these assholes out of this apartment.

. . .

“What the fuck is above my apartment?” Ryan asked with a haggard expression the next morning after Mikey had ushered Ed and Harry from the apartment with their payment in hand, in cash.

“Do you work today?” Mikey asked Ryan. Ryan wouldn't go to his venue until after lunch, and then he’d be out for the rest of the night, but sometimes he didn’t have a show and the venue would just stay closed. Mikey preferred those days, because then Ryan would be home when Mikey came home.

Ryan shook his head. He looked half asleep, and then rest half dead.

“You’re coming to work with me,” he told Ryan. “And we’ll talk to my brother. Ask him what we should do. He’s smart, you know. He’ll be able to help us. He’ll know what’s going on, or at least, he’ll know how to find out.”

. . .

“Why don’y you just break in?” Gee suggested.

Mikey felt a little stupid.

. . .

“I’ve never broken into anywhere before,” Mikey told Ryan as the road the elevator up to the level above Ryan and Mikey’s. “Never even thought about it.”

“I’ve broken into places,” Ryan told him. “I can pick a lock. And hot wire a car.”

Mikey turned to him with his brow sky-high as the elevator doors opened. Ryan didn’t meet his eyes and stepped out. Mikey followed.

“I’ve been arrested, too,” Ryan told him as they walked down the hall. “Hot wired my dad’s car and ran away. The police caught me and I was in jail for three days until they could finally get my dad to sober up enough to come get my. He dropped the charges, which was basically the nicest thing he’s ever done for me.”

“And breaking into a place?”

Ryan smirked a bit. “Broke into my high school. Spray painted all the contents of the locker of this asshole who was making fun of my best friend. And I sprayed everything, man. Every individual page of all of his notebooks, all the clothes and even the watch he had left in there. Everything was matte pink when I was done. Never got caught.”

Mikey nodded as they stopped in front of the door of the offending apartment. “You ready for this?”

Ryan grimaced. “Probably should have brought that shotgun Harry and Ed had.”

“We don’t need this fucking idiots,” Mikey grumbled. He wasn’t very keen on having a god damn shot gun pointed at his face. “Whatever this is, we can handle it. It might not even be a ghost, for all we know.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes at Mikey. “Be careful what you say next, or you may get a cold shoulder tomorrow. And I’m pretty sure that that’s the last thing you could ever want. Especially from me. Your new guitarist.”

Soon after the shotgun terror, Ryan had been making midnight calls and trying to find people to fill in for Mikey’s tentative musical experience. It had been the nicest gesture that had ever been made for Mikey, and he’d kinda just spent a lot of the phone calls playing with the fingers on Ryan’s free hand, because he knew that Ryan really liked mundane physical affection, tiny gestures to show he was wanted and unforgotten. Mikey was just clueless as to how anyone could ever forget Ryan fucking Ross.

But anyways, through the phone calls, Ryan had managed to scrounge up a drummer named Spencer who was apparently an old friend of Ryan’s, a singer named Brandon, but every guitarist Ryan went to was either someone Ryan realized he didn’t trust, or someone that Ryan decided wasn’t going to be dedicated enough, halfway through the phone call. Then, Ryan had put the phone away, turned to Mikey, and firmly stated, “I’ll play for you.” Mikey hadn’t had any sort of argument against that. In fact, he welcomed it. Because he knew Ryan. He didn’t know Spencer or Brandon.

And now Mikey had a halfway band and a shot at something he’d never really considered chasing because of how downright impossible it seemed. He’d told Gee. His brother had been sincerely overjoyed.

“Are you ready?” Ryan asked softly as he knelt in front of the locked door.

Mikey nodded and waited for Ryan to pick the lock. He felt like Ryan had done this way more than once, because he finished in only half a minute, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration. Mikey swung the door open and went in first, because he wanted to make sure that if anything _did_ happen, Mikey would be the first to know.

But nothing happened.

“I don’t see anything, kept a broken chandelier,” Mikey said. Weird that there was a chandelier in this apartment, but the more Mikey looked around, there clear it became to him that this was an upper social class sort of apartment, because it was much bigger and more expensive that Mikey’s. “The chandelier’s just on the floor… Could that be what we heard last night?”

“Probably,” Ryan mumbled, standing and plastering himself to Mikey’s side like he was scared.

“Let’s check this place out,” Mikey said, moving further into the apartment. He looked around and saw nothing but dust and rusty plumbing. It almost looked like no one had ever lived in this apartment since it was built. Sure, the place had only been standing for five years or so, but that was a big deal in any large city.

Mikey looked around the corner of the kitchen into what he assumed was a large bedroom, but didn’t see anything. 

“Aren’t ghosts invisible?” Ryan asked in a whisper. Mikey looked back at him, brow furrowed. Then the rusted over door smashed open and something darted towards them. Ryan shrieked and Mikey grabbed him by the arm, pulling him out of the way. But Ryan kept going, running out of the room, then out of the apartment all together.

Mikey stared at where Ryan once was and almost started laughing.

Then he looked into the room and saw a cat.

A very scared, sick, starving cat.

Mikey dropped to his knees and sat back. “Hey,” he greeted softly. He wasn’t necessarily a cat person, but he didn’t hate them. And this poor kitty was shaking and curled against the wall, staring at Mikey. Its coat was matted and knotted and the poor thing was in terrible shape. Mikey waited and cooed and whispered softly, just random words, and the cat eventually approached Mikey, so it probably wasn’t feral. Eventually, it was close enough for Mikey to scoop it up in his arms. He stood and carried the scared cat out of the apartment, to where Ryan was waiting anxiously.

When Ryan saw the cat, his entire expression lit up.

“Hey, baby,” Ryan murmured in a soft voice. Mikey handed the cat over and Ryan cradled the thing to his chest.

“It explains a lot,” Mikey said. The scratching and the lights from chewed wiring, the crashing and yowling. There had been a cat locked upstairs and it had been starving. “Poor thing…”

“Can we keep it?” Ryan asked, eyes wide with hope.

Mikey couldn’t say no.

. . .

“Cpt. Knots?” Gee repeated with a grin. “That’s such a cute name.”

“He’s a cute cat,” Mikey told his brother the next day at work. “Ryan’s in love.”

Gee’s eyes went wide. “He’s already told you he loves you?”

Mikey blushed. “What?”

“What?”

“Gee, you’re confusing me.”

“You, you said Ryan’s in love.”

“With the cat,” Mikey snorted. “Not me.”

Gee pouted. “Too bad.”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.”

Gee shrugged and kept inking his latest page. “So, it was a cat. Your ghost was a cat and now that cat is your cat and the cat got you a boyfriend.” Gee smirked. “You should be getting that cat, like, so much catnip.”

Mikey matched his smirk. “Look at me, Gee. Soon I’ll be getting married like you. With a band, traveling the world.”

Gee’s smirk turned into a smile. “I’m happy for you.”

Mikey was a bit surprised by the fact that Gee was being sincere.

Mikey looked around the little store, then looked to his brother, and realized his job wasn’t that stressful, and that he loved working for his brother, even if for now. Because soon, he'd be moving on with his own life, and he knew he’d miss this. He’d miss seeing his brother every day and knowing he was okay, he’d miss being able to listen to his brother rant and rave about his latest comic or whatever dumb joke Frank told him.

He’d miss Gee.

“I love you, Gee,” he said softly.

His brother smiled wider. “I love you too, Mikey. Don’t forget me when you’re out there.”

Mikey shook his head. “Like I ever could." Then, “I’m still not fucking gay.”

Gee just laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Harry and Ed (c) Eric Kripke/Supernatural's "Ghostfacers"


End file.
